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Sunday, February 25, 2018

The Woodland Creature Arrives

All of our original animals (the four dogs and the sixteen year old cat), are thriving and now we’ve added eleven eccentric chickens and as of today, a baby hare, into the mix.

This is why I’ll never be a millionhare. I spend all my hard-earned money on my pets.

My five children (the hare apparents) were very disappointed to hear about this latest acquisition as the small, woodland creature has further decreased their possible inhare-itance.

“What’s wrong with you, Mother?” was the typical comment, laced with an hare of hostility. “Why do you need a hare?”

The hare (or leveret if you want to be technical) has taken up residence in a hefty hutch in the lounge room and is currently snuggled up in the hay, far from the hare-raising attentions of the tenaciously curious Fox Terrier. The Chihuahua, in his usual Mexican lassitude, couldn’t give a shit about the interesting pungent fumes emanating from said hutch.

Celine displaying inappropriate interest.

We’re encouraging the woodland creature to settle in quietly until early evening when we will coax it out and feed it milk.

Technically it’s weaned, but I desperately want to nurture it like a baby so it may end up as an oversized, lumbering and furry, Robin Arryn-like hare.

Naturally, I won’t be breast feeding it, though.

I bet you’re relieved about that.

It has its own, cutest-ever, miniature formula bottle. You have never seen anything so adorable as a hare latching on to a tiny bottle and suckling its head off.

Someone with a really bony hand feeding my leveret...

You’ll also be comforted to know this animal will not be sleeping in our bed as it’s nocturnal and would most likely scrabble around in the bed all night as well as poop uncontrollably and likely be attacked by the fox terrier (which is a breed trained to hunt hares and that could trigger a very bad hare day for all concerned).

We’ve steered away from the Game of Thrones theme we use to christen the chickens and named her Mixy (short for myxomatosis), after the rabbit on The Ferals. Hares don’t get myxomatosis so it’s okay to call her that without jinxing her.

Whilst some of you might think there are possibly some harey times in store, there will be some delightful and hil-hare-ious stories and photographs in future blog posts and at least I didn’t buy a ferret (which would have been particularly hare-brained) so we should all be thankful.

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